


and i plead (and i pray)

by twosetmeridian



Series: twosetweek season 1 [2]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, M/M, POV Second Person, Romance, Royalty, angst is where the good life is uwu, heed the warnings guys please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 07:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21334423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosetmeridian/pseuds/twosetmeridian
Summary: you are dying at the behest of your lover, and all you can think of is:how cold. how beautiful.for twosetweek day 2; prompt: competitive + supportive.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: twosetweek season 1 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560604
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	and i plead (and i pray)

**Author's Note:**

> title from _sacrilege_ by yeah yeah yeahs.  
warnings: major character death, manipulation, (vague) sexual content, dubious morals
> 
> **[ crossposted from wattpad; published 10/15/2019 ] **

• • •

the flames are licking at your feet, now. the inferno awaits to take your life, and still, at the last few moments before the end, your eyes seek the man who put you here on the stake, and you _love_.

he does not look away. you imagine he feels remorse, even as you know there is no room in his heart for such a thing. you continue to imagine it anyway.

you are dying at the behest of your lover, and all you can think of is: _how cold. how beautiful._

• • •

the first time you meet him, he is nothing more than a mere child, and yet, you are fascinated. perhaps it is here that your downfall begins, inevitability etched across the pages of your story.

lord brett of the house of yang has long been known as a sickly child, his poor vision and lean figure drawing him constant jeers as a laughingstock amongst the other nobles. where his family had once been great, now their fortunes ail under the weight of their sole heir's condition. his father looks upon him with contempt; his mother rues the day he had been born.

he has long been hailed as outcast, and so through this way, you meet him for the very first time: standing in the rain at the edge of the forest, fingers tearing fragile flowers into shreds.

"what is your name?"

"edward," you tell him, simply; you do not tell him you are an heir too, not at first. you do not tell him you are a noble, lest he hate you immediately.

you do not tell him you are a witch either, lest he strike you down where you stand.

brett quietly nods, bows his head a mere fraction: a small concession of a greeting. "i am brett." he looks down at the crushed petals in his hands, and then lets them flutter down to the ground. "i will become king one day."

in hindsight, you have long sensed it. even then, he is made of darkness, of jagged glass and that unquenchable thirst for _power_, ever since the very day he had been born.

and you think to yourself: _how cold. how beautiful._

• • •

it becomes all too clear that brett is in no position to vie for the throne.

the young nobles of the kingdom have all been brought up with the primary goal of ascending as king. the current royal figure is aging, and soon, he will choose a successor.

you are an exceptional participant in this game for the crown. the house of chen is a rich and powerful force, and the full might of your noble family is behind your every move.

brett, on the other hand, seems to have been left behind by all others. but he is smart, and perhaps he has seen that flickering flame you keep in your chest for him, and so he corners you and asks for the first favor of so, so many more to come.

• • •

"you're my friend, aren't you?"

"i am."

"then you will forfeit your claim to the crown for me, won't you?"

• • •

and so you do. your family is understandably displeased, but there is nothing to do about it—you have made up your mind. you withdraw from the game, place your full support on brett's shoulders.

he has made a loyal slave out of you, and yet you allow it. you crave it, even; if there is any sort of mercy you desire for in this life, it can only be found in brett's hands.

and so life continues. and so begins your dalliances in the dark.

• • •

when you first fall into bed together, he is relentless.

you do not know how things have led to this, but you cannot find it in yourself to complain. you've wanted this for so long; it is merely taking advantage of an opportunity, no matter the preceding circumstances.

and oh, how you allow him to _rule_ you.

he places a hand against your throat and squeezes as he kisses you like a wild fire, searing and hot. he straddles you, sinks deep into your every crevice as if he's starving for it, for everything you're willing to give him. and you—you let him take it, a conquest spread out for him to devour. whatever he wants.

you are starving for this too.

"i love you," comes the words unbidden from you; they only come because you are tired, and you are sated, and you can no longer resist the urge to lay everything at his feet.

he looks at you then, this starry-eyed boy with a black hole for a heart, and says nothing in return. something inexplicably withers in your chest.

_so this_, you think, _is how i will end_.

you do not say the words again.

• • •

"you will see me to the throne, won't you?"

"i will."

"then you will kill for me, won't you?"

• • •

you have never once allowed even the thought of murder into your mind before, but love has spurned you on to bathe your hands in red.

but red is a beautiful color, is it not? it reminds you of your lover's mouth, wicked and profane, and _yes_, you think to yourself as you watch a nobleman drown on seemingly nothing but air, _yes, it is quite beautiful._

• • •

finally, _finally_, the efforts of your labor come to fruition. no one stands in brett's way any longer, no more rivals to speak of that would threaten his position.

your lover sits on the throne, a glimmering crown resting upon his dark hair, looking every inch the royal figure you have long foreseen him to be.

you watch from the crowd, a stranger shrouded in darkness. you watch from the sidelines, fingers itching to run through those mussed locks, dishevel him. you want to show the masses just how stunning a king looks like when he's on his knees for you.

but it is not your place. you agreed to this, this anonymity. the man behind the man. you agreed to this, and you find you do not care much about it at all, when you have him. you _have_ him, and that makes all the difference.

• • •

perhaps it is all your own fault that you've led yourself to this dilemma. you've become too sloppy when it comes to the continued quest to establish brett's authority by pruning the royal court of any threatening weeds, and the populace is beginning to notice.

unexplained, unsolvable deaths lead to the widespread rumor of witchcraft at the works. even then, the doubters of brett's meteoric rise to the throne use this to their advantage.

the king himself is accused. it feels as if your own days are numbered.

• • •

"you love me, don't you?"

even as the words first spill out into the space between your bodies, you already know where this is going. you already know how this will end.

"i do." it is the truth, after all.

brett looks up, and your eyes meet. you press your fingers against his lips one last time, as if to stop the impending decree, but when has he ever moved for you?

"then you will die for me, won't you?"

• • •

ah, but you've always done everything for him, have you not?

it'll never be a question, not for you.

• • •

and so here you are, tied at the stake as the crowd spits and jeers at you. shouts of _kill the witch, kill the witch_ echo throughout the palace grounds, your family name and your legacy forever tarnished by your crimes.

the king is there, tall and bold now that no blame is to be found at his door: a man absolved of all crimes. his throne is secure. you have paid the cost.

it is with resignation that you realize you would pay it again and again and again. anything for him.

the flames are about to consume you. you think you see a twinkle in those dark eyes before the world stops.

and you think to yourself: _how cold. how beautiful._


End file.
